Vanquish The Night
by Syranda
Summary: The moonlight has a way of making all things appear tranquil. A beautiful goddess, it watches over and gives refuge to all.  However, its cursed to sit for all eternity and be a silent observer to the sinister happenings in the hours of darkness.
1. Silent Witness

The moonlight has a way of making all things appear tranquil. Unlike the sun, which is fiery and fierce, its light is a calming pale blue, nurturing and protective. It is the one source of light in dark times, the vanquisher of the shadows in the most threatening night. A beautiful goddess, it watches over and gives refuge to all. However, it is cursed to sit for all eternity and be but a silent observer to the sinister and sorrowful happenings in the hours of darkness.

Trees flew by as the figure made its way through the darkest corners of the forest, periodically glancing back to see if she was being followed. The cloak that was draped over her hid her face and identity from the curious moon, but it was of an elegant silk that made her feminine figure apparent. There was a sense of urgency about her, as if it was not simply a whim that had brought her to this place. She clutched a bundle closely to her chest, and held a wand in one hand. Then, after what seemed like hours of breathless running, she stopped at an ancient oak. It towered high above the forest, making even the most seasoned of trees look like nothing but saplings. She settled on one of its gigantic roots, hidden in the shadows and away from the frosty light of her only observer. However, the moon's curiosity would not be so easily deterred, so she pushed aside the clouds that covered her silver anatomy and reached with her ghostly beams to uncover the figure once again. She found it even more curious that this time she was not alone. A tall, wispy form of a man had joined the woman, seemingly out of thin air. His beard, faded to silver radiance over the ages, reached down to his waste and was tucked into the belt which he had donned over magnificent black robes with amethyst trim. He peered over at the woman with piercing blue eyes over half-moon spectacles.

"I'm glad you have seen reason and joined me here tonight, Krystal." He said to the woman, who then lowered her hood to reveal her curled rusty hair and her most uncanny amber eyes.

"I will not have you see this as a sign of my wavering loyalty, Dumbledore. I have not changed my allegiances." Her voice was dangerously soft, and yet she could not help but let out a small note of indecision.

"If you did not have doubts, you would not be here. We both know that." His twinkling crystal eyes surveyed Krystal in the way that made her shiver. She was sure that he could see into her very soul.

"This is no longer about me." She whispered, "I must act for others now."

"You are not evil, Krystal. We both know that. You know what _he_ is –"

"I told you, _Albus, _we are not here to discuss my fate. I have already decided upon it." Her tone was impatient now, "I will not leave him."

"Be careful which path you chose my dear. I'm afraid this one can only end in your death." The placidity in his tone sent a fresh wave of fear trickling down her spine, but she held strong and her voice was formidable in her reply,

"I know this. And I have accepted it. I love him, and I will not leave him. After this meeting the only place you will see me is on the battlefield. I warn you now; neither he nor I will be taken alive"

Dumbledore's deeply lined face, which held the emotions of what appeared to be a century of life, contorted into a sorrowful fusion of worry, sadness, pain and the slightest touch of guilt. "I know my dear. Love works in mysterious ways. It is the most powerful of all magic and its bind is unrelenting and intoxicating. I just wish that your fate could be changed." He paused, looking thoughtful for a moment, "I remember your first day at Hogwarts. I recognised the spark in you straight away. I knew that you were destined for great things..."

The hard facade which Krystal had held up thus far was momentarily shattered as the ghosts of her past played across her large almond-shaped eyes, "We don't have time to reminisce ancient histories, Dumbledore." She said regaining her composure, "We must get to the matter at hand. He will surely notice my absence soon."

"You are doing the right thing. If he possessed this, he would use it for horrendous acts you couldn't imagine."

"I... I... I'm not sure anymore... There is good in him Dumbledore, I know there is! I've seen it... What if I changed him? Then all of this deceit and secrecy wouldn't be needed..." A river of tears threatened to flood her golden eyes, but did not fall beyond the dam of thick black eyelashes.

"You know that he will not be changed my child. His fate is sealed and decided, as is yours." Dumbledore reached for the bundle. Krystal unwillingly relinquished her hold on it as if he was ripping her heart out. She fell to the floor as if the realisation of what was taking place had only just struck her.

After procuring the bundle, Dumbledore turned away, pausing only for a second to glance back at the once promising and talented young witch that he had grown so fond of, reduced to a sad heaving pile, ruined on the floor. _I will not fail you, Krystal. I promise I will not fail you. _ And with a **crack** he disappeared as quickly and completely as he had come.

Left behind sobbing on the forest floor, Krystal could not even hear the second crack that, in a clearer state of mind, would've alerted her to the presence of the dark form whose materialization made even the moon seem a little paler.

"What are you doing out here?" there was something foreign in the high voice that could almost be identified as warmth, "Krystal?"

"I'm sorry Tom..." She sobbed, turning her face up to glance upon his pale, snakelike face and his eyes that screamed of all the blood he had claimed, "I'm so sorry... I llove you... but, what you've become – there was nothing else... I didn't know what else I could do..." she grabbed the foot of his robes and sobbed uncontrollably.

He grabbed her with his long pallid fingers and pulled her up to face him, his usually cruel face contorted in pain that seemed to cut his very core, "What did you do?" his voice shook as if he had already guessed the depths of her betrayal.

The moon sunk low in the sky, willing herself to hide, not wanting to hear the anguished screams that followed, nor see the flash of green light that made all fall of the wood fall silent. But it could not escape the awful sight, and allowed the sky to shed tears for the body of the woman lying limp and forgotten on the forest floor.


	2. Stranger in the Mirror

[A/N Hey everyone. I hope you enjoyed the first chapter. Please review lots if you did, or even if you think I've got somewhere to improve – a little constructive criticism goes an awfully long way in helping a writer. Not to mention that it's a great motivator if you want to see more. This story will not be DH compatible and is post HBP. I've added a few OCs to spice up the mix.

**Disclaimer:** JK Rowling owns any familiar characters / settings / story references

It was in the middle of the night that Harry Potter awoke drenched in sweat in his room at number four Private Drive. Like in his nightmare, rain pelted at his window showing the sky's anguish at the amount of carnage it had been forced to endure over the last month. Harry's eyes mirrored the skies as his tears fell for a reason he couldn't quite remember – something about a woman in a forest. Voldemort was there too, and so was... No. He couldn't bear to even think the name. It would make his insides burn and the weight already pressing down on him to become unbearable if he thought of _his _name.

After tossing and turning for a while Harry conceded defeat and reached for his glasses. As usual, his stomach ached as if it was twisted into many knots, but he had grown used to the sensation and almost didn't notice anymore. He gazed around his room disinterestedly. Not many things seemed to have a point lately. Plates, dirty clothes and (unbeknownst to his aunt and uncle) vodka bottles littered his bedroom floor.

He walked across the hall to the second floor bathroom that he shared with Dudley and splashed water on his face. When he looked up he saw a stranger staring back at him. He was pale and sallow, his eyes sunken and surrounded by dark shadows. He bore all the signs of a man who had seen too much. While he may have been handsome once, with his thick black hair and his attractive green eyes, now he was nothing but a shell. Harry hated this stranger in the mirror.

Walking back to his room, Harry heard a tapping on the window and rushed to let Hedwig inside and out of the cold, savage rain. He walked her over to her cage and angled it towards the small heater. A heater. In July. A constant reminder of the dark, cold beings that hid in the shadows sucking what little happiness was left in people. At the same time he removed the small roll of parchment from Hedwig's right leg. Unrolling it, he saw the official looking letter head and almost tore it up. It was from the _Ministry._ He chewed back the angry and frustrated cry that was building in the back of his throat when he thought of all of the damage that the useless and unresponsive Ministry had caused. It was four am and he doubted that his aunt and uncle would tolerate him waking them up. Biting his lip, he read.

Dear Mr Potter,

We at the Ministry would like to offer our sincere condolences for the recent loss of your close friend and mentor, Albus Dumbledore.

We are sorry to disturb you during this time of mourning. We write to inform you that the reading of Professor Dumbledore's Will shall commence at precisely noon tomorrow, at the Ministry of Magic, London, room nine.

Sincerely,

Marian McIntosh

Head of Financial Law Department

Harry's insides twisted tighter still. He felt the pain building in his chest and the weight pressing down on his shoulders, compressing him and making the room seem smaller. Even breathing became a conscious struggle. Ever since Dumbledore's funeral he had been on the cusp of a break down that he had tried so hard to suppress, to deny, but he knew that he could hold himself together no longer. The truth of what had happened a month ago finally hit him - Dumbledore was dead. He was alone. No one was there to save him, to guide him, to explain when things went wrong. "Close friend and mentor". The empty words stared up at him and echoed around his head. They could never begin to describe the man that Dumbledore was to him. And now he was gone. He sunk down onto his bedroom floor, exhaustion setting in. His mind was quiet accept for a soft buzzing sound that reminds one of a television playing static. After what seemed like aeons he moved. He grabbed his coat and headed out the door. He needed some fresh air.


	3. Vultures

[A/N Hey everyone. I would like to thank the people who reviewed. I'm sorry this took so long but school has been hectic this term. That said, updates would be much faster if I had a little positive motivation, so please take time to review.

Disclaimer: Harry Potter, and all associated trademarks, characters and sub-plots belong to JK Rowling.

Harry felt stuffy and uncomfortable in the dress robes Mrs Weasley had purchased for him. They were black, with a high collar and were made of silk that clung to his slender form, showing how much weight he had lost. He could sense a different tone behind Mrs Weasley's usual threats to force eight course meals on him, a certain edge that made him painfully aware that she was deeply unsettled by his obvious disintegration. The others also threw him discrete looks that confirmed that they were all asking themselves the same question; _has Harry Potter finally cracked?_ Harry wasn't particularly perturbed by this, as it was a question he often asked himself of late.

Yesterday had been a blur of anger, confusion and pain. He had walked for hours, not knowing where he was anymore, but not particularly caring either. Stumbling to the sidewalk, he sat down, needing to be still for a moment. He watched the darkness of early morning melt into the fire of daybreak over the rooftops of suburbia. He sat there for hours thinking about what he would have to do, where he would go from there. Things had seemed simple a month ago at Dumbledore's funeral. He was going to leave school and save the world, one Horcrux at a time. However, now that he had a month to sit and plan he realised that he had nowhere to begin. He had no leads to where any of the Horcruxes were – only that he was possibly looking for something from Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff's cup and Voldemort's slithering companion. And even if he did happen to stumble across them by sheer dumb luck, there were bound to be complex dark magic protecting them that would require the skills of more than a mere high school drop-out. A new plan of action needed to be formed.

Then, while he was nervously fiddling with the laces on his worn shoes, another owl landed next to him. He recognised it immediately as Pigwegion. He had entirely too much energy for Harry's current mood. He had been trying to read Ron's message when, in a sudden flash of annoyance, he hit the bird into a nearby fence. He shocked himself with his little violent outburst and immediately felt guilty. He picked Pig up and whispered an apology. He hooted faintly and then continued to bounce around, though he now gave Harry a bit of a wider berth. The message was yet again about Dumbledore's funeral, and it stated that Mr Weasley and a few other order members were coming to collect him tomorrow so that he could attend the reading. They said that he would be taken straight to headquarters after that. This reminded him how idiotic it was for him to be wandering around in a strange neighbourhood by himself without telling anyone he was even out. Voldemort and his death eaters were everywhere now that Dumbledore was gone. They had nothing left to hinder them. So he got up and headed back to number four, Private Drive to pack his trunk for the last time.

And now here he sat, in a court house at the Ministry (albeit, a much less sinister and ominous one than he was accustomed to), in stuffy dress robes, trying not to notice the loaded looks he was receiving, trying not to hit the crowd of 'mourning relatives' who looked on like vultures waiting to pick the carcass of Dumbledore's life earnings clean. It disgusted him, the way they hovered with barely contained excitement, greed clear on their faces. They circled the room, their beady eyes watching and waiting for the perfect moment to sweep down and claim their prize.

Just then he heard a familiar sound that made him freeze; "_hem"_ he twisted around, and sure enough that vile toad of a woman, clad from head to toe in pink, had taken a seat on the judges' podium.

"Attention please, ladies and gentlemen. We would like to commence with the reading of the will." The sugar that coated Umbridge's made Harry nauseous.

Everyone shuffled around and took their seats. Hermione and Ron were on either side of him, and upon seeing his expression Hermione took his hand in hers and gave him one of her soft comforting looks. He squeezed back appreciatively.

Harry could not believe how much _stuff_ Dumbledore had acquired during his lifetime. It seemed that they would be doomed to sort through thousand of trinkets and artefacts individually for the rest of the week. It seemed that Dumbledore had planned very thoroughly what would happen to all of his possessions. It made Harry wonder if he had expected to die so soon, with so much more to do. He felt anger towards the older man bubble up inside him. Why hadn't he given him clearer instructions and locations to search? Why did everything with him have to be a fucking riddle? He immediately felt guilty for these selfish thoughts.

"... to Miss Hermione Jane Granger, the full contents of his home library, to Mr Ronald B Weasley the contents of his Gringots vault, and finally to Mr Harry James Potter, Albus Dumbledore leaves his estate in Godrick's Hollow and all remaining possessions therein." There was a sudden outbreak of whispers as everyone in the room turned to look at Harry, some with expressions of shock, others of extreme anger and jealousy. It was clear to him that Dumbledore's estate was the most sought after prize in the eyes of the vultures surrounding him.

"_Hem." _Came Umbridge's annoying cough. Alas, it did nothing to silence the squawking around her. "AHEM!" She screamed, finally bringing everyone to order, and then resumed her silly girly voice to add, "That concludes our reading of the Will and testament of Albus Dumbledore. Thank you all so much for coming. Please proceed to leave the courtroom in an orderly manner." And with that she swept out of the room.

"Well that took _ages_, didn't it?" Ron sighed, relieved. "I can't believe he left me all of his money! Mum and Dad have been having a bit of trouble lately – "

"Ronald, just think. Dumbledore must have other reasons for leaving you the key to his vault, maybe other things are in there that could help us with Harry's _mission_" she said the last word as a whisper.

"Wow, I never thought of that," Ron said looking uncharacteristically thoughtful, "And just imagine all the clues and stuff that could be lying all over his house! What do you think, Harry?"

"I dunno. I suppose it's worth a try to look around. If I know Dumbledore, he's planned this game out right until the final move."

Walking through the Ministry corridors, they proceeded to the fireplaces so that they could floo back to the Burrow, where Harry and Hermione would be spending the remainder of the summer. However, before they could get there, Mr Weasley appeared at a nearby apparition point covered in blood.

"Arthur! What happened?" A ministry witch screamed, rushing to his side, followed quickly by Harry, Ron and Hermione.

"The Death Eaters... everywhere... they were everywhere... Need help" was all he managed before unconsciousness claimed him. The ministry which ran to get help leaving the Golden Trio standing horror struck next to the unconscious man

[A/N Has Dumbledore left the trio hidden clues in Dumbledore Manner? Did all of the Weasleys survive the death eater attack? Who exactly was that chick in the first chapter and what was she carrying anyway? Find out in the next exciting instalment of "Vanquish the Night" Now please, go forth and review!


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